Art is hard. Any form of it, and I think that is a worldwide accepted fact. Lately I have to remind myself this and shut out the heavy heart that follows criticism. I have to fight through wanting to give up, drop the brush and pencil, again. Long ago, I forgot what it felt like to have fun with, to enjoy, art and not want to cry because I didn’t get a “wow” or “that’s really good!” I actually began to hide my artwork because I felt the need to protect myself; I poured all my emotions at the time into my pieces and to be told that they needed to be corrected translated into something else.
What I got was that I drew too many skeletons. My work was too stylized.
I started to get angry. I wanted to shout that they weren’t saying Picasso worked in cubism too often, Monet painted too many landscapes, Jacob Lawrence did too many collages, and Andy Goldsworthy should do something other than Land Art.
My escape, my way out of pain, who I was through paint didn’t need to be corrected. There is no correct personality.  I held onto that thought for a very long time but I also stopped drawing and slowly I have stopped painting.
However… I am beginning again but this time I am seeking help from books. Books don’t tell you what to draw and how often you should draw it– they show you methods of how to draw. That’s what’s important. So I will draw as many messed up faces, skeletons, stylized scenes, and paint non-symmetrical paintings as I damn well please.


Take My Hand.

I wrote this for my loved ones. Some of which are going through really tough times right now.

Clouds roll in; storm in your head
cracking of earth; and heart 
Losing your grounding
Don’t shut your eyes yet

Because here I am;
Right where I always am.
Take my hand and listen:
This isn’t the end; spread your wings
Clear the storm and let it be spring

Invisible or visible, I’m here
Even when the dark draws near
I’ll walk you away from fear
And if there is ever a tomorrow 
Where you feel I’m not there
I’m still there

Because here I am;
Right where I always am.
Take my hand and listen:
This isn’t the end; spread your wings
Clear the storm and let it be spring

CKM (c) 

One Step Forward.

When do we lose out confidence? How does it happen? Why do we let things get to us?

Things have not been easy for me lately and the self hatred has been mounting. It has been impacting my grades and health more than I want to admit, so, instead of caving any further to my insecurities, I’m going to list my good qualities.

Sasha: “Smart, funny, playful, caring, creative, musical, lovely, lively, and loving.”
Deante: “Generally awesome.”

I’m a damn good writer. I make errors but I know how to grab a reader’s attention. I can play four instruments if you count my voice. I’m a good painting, sketch artist, potter, and designer. I write good songs and poems. I have a long memory. I can pull off wildly eccentric outfits. I have a talent for writing in Spanish. I know a lot about fitness, nutrition and mental health. I’m a great photographer and editor. I can bake like no ones business. I know a lot about animals and can usually recognize what animal by their bones. I’m good with History. Even though I suck at testing, I’m really good at math. I have wicked deduction skills. I’m good with cars, house repairs, and manual labor. I can work a hundred and five hour work week. I’m a natural at horseback-riding and driving. I’m strong mentally and physically. I’m loyal.


I’m not worthless. 

Paints and Muffins.


I’m going to try to paint this today (a photo I took). The base will be water color, so I can get the base right, then the final layers will be oil. I need acetone for some of my brushes, though, because they have enamel paint on them. Yeah, I’m not one of those artists who has the right kind of paintbrush for every medium. I work with what I have and if that means using watercolor brushes with oil paints, then… well, you get the point. 

I also decided to bake today, which I haven’t done in a while. I felt out of it. I forgot two ingredients but they weren’t win or bust ingredients. I made omelette muffins and I forgot the cheese and garlic, so I made a garlic butter and will top the muffins with cheese. There, problem solved. I don’t really care for cheese in my eggs anyway. 

I will take pictures of how they came out and insert them into a end-of-day post. 


Worlds within Pages.

gift ideas!

I guess you could say I’m prompted by images. I saw this, once again, on Pinterest and was horrified. No, I am horrified. How could someone destroy a book for the sake of fashion?

If you are an adventurer, someone who dives into the pages without reserve, like me, then you understand my anger and horror. Because any adventurer knows that a book is much more than just paper and ink; a book is an entire world. Worlds in which we find friends, safety, wonder, hope, knowledge, courage and so many other beautiful things.

Sure, there are Kindle books but they aren’t the same. In genuinely holding a book, you not only hold a world but you’re connected with every person who read it before you—you’re connected to the very author themselves.

There isn’t the same closeness as there is when someone gives you a book, especially if it once belonged to someone you loved and lost. You don’t look at your Kindle app and feel like your holding your loved one’s hand while reading that book because their hands didn’t hold the Kindle app. Their hands held a book. When you read that book, you feel as if you are laughing, crying, raging, sitting on the edge of your seat with them. In the words of C.S. Lewis: “We read to know we aren’t alone.” and in destroying a book, you sever that connection.

It is why I love used book stores and especially antique book stores. To hold an antique book and to revel in the wonder of how many hearts have been touched, changed, by those words is something that is only matched by music, art, any kind of faith and love.

A book is so much more and it always will be.